Philosophical discussion between two neighbouring frenemies
by TeaAndUmbrellas
Summary: England and France end up discussing Rousseau, Wollstonecraft, Burke, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Locke, and Montesquieu, as they meet up in England's personal library. They start with tea, but end with whisky. Note: this is written as exam revision for my Western Political Thought module at University. Maybe it can help someone else?


_I don't own Hetalia or stuff. nor the philosophers. This is literally me working towards my exam tomorrow morning. I hope it can help someone else too, so I felt like posting it xD_

_Rated for two old nations becoming more and more drunk, rambling about political philosophy. I assure you that the progression from tea to wine to whisky is a very natural one and one cannot help it!_

_Thinkers in question: Rousseau, Wollstonecraft, Burke, Hobbes, Machiavelli, Locke, and Montesquieu, with brief mention of the Federalists at the end. I got more and more tired, just like they got more and more drunk, so the later thinkers are not given as much space as the first ones :P_

_The whole thing came to me when I was walking past the French literature shelf in the University library, imagining France inappropriately snogging someone. Then I thought studying could be the best excuse ever to write a nerdy fanfiction!_

_- Don't freak out when I write in French by the way. it is not much and mostly I am trying to smoothly translate it in the next line :P If you are too annoyed use google translate, oki?_

**A philosophical discussion between two neighbouring frenemies**

Every nation knows it is their job to keep up with and act more or less according to dominant political philosophy of their time.

England in particular took this seriously, sitting down with every thinker, artist, or similar that had any potential. Obviously this was a lot of hard work, not to mention the reports and paperwork, but England always found it incredibly important and always did his utmost to keep up to date and reach them all.

Sometimes he even confronted Scotland or France when they had an obvious gem in their hands, but ignored it in order to drink or flirt, or what the hell his neighbours did in their spare-time. For instance, it really shouldn't have been England's job to speak to the great Scottish empiricist David Hume.

Scotland argued that he was "British" and it was Arthur's responsibility as the political face of the union to see to it. 'Had not wee England chosen to take over half the world? Well, then he should bloody well face up to his responsibilities' his brother had said in his thickest Scottish accent. England's memory was paraphrasing here of course, he did not have a natural thick Scottish accent, even in his head.

So, Scotland would claim his thinkers were "British" until he was boasting about them, then they were suddenly only Scottish, and taking any credit was rude, of course. All the work, none of the credit, went to England. Typical.

He would interview the French-speaking thinkers as well, with his get-by French. Sometimes even when France had done it himself. Having two perspectives couldn't hurt, and sometimes the French-speakers traveled to Britain. Well, often the thinkers were more French-speaking than actual French.

Europe used to be a rather different place from what it was today, and the French borders – as well as many other - had been rather blurred. It was easier when you were in island, in a sense. At least the border disputes took on a different nature.

England took his responsibilities very seriously, but he hardly ever had time to have a second glance at them all as time flew past and new ideologies, doctrines and beliefs were battling.

* * *

Surprising as it may sound, England found himself with a day off for once. It had been a very long time since he last had a blank page showing the tasks of the day. The speech for the next World Summit could not be tweeked or re-read one more time and there was nothing else on the agenda.

Therefore, after an early dinner, he decided to take a trip to the library. Well, not any old library, although it was old indeed. This was a hidden gem where only a few others – the staff members, other Nations, and a small collection of people, mostly scholars and the monarch of course – could enter.

It was, in a sense, Arthur's own library, as everything he had ever written down could be found there. All the big British thinkers, historical events, music, ideas behind art and so on.

Arthur was feeling particularly nostalgic today, and found that he had been thinking about the past for ages, although trying to surpress the constant pull of past memories. Drowning them in pot after pot of tea while he worked. He decided to find the shelf with Thomas Hobbes and John Locke, to refresh his memory of his meeting with them.

Apart from the guard of the door, and the front-desk librarian, he had not seen anyone else today.

No wonder really. The Queen did not have time or energy to hang out in the library very often, and America - as his closes English speaking relation - hadn't been there since around the time of the independence. Therefore, England had really not expected to run into someone else.

As he turned down an isle however he found himself confronted with a situation he would rather have avoided if he could. France was snogging one of the librarians in front of the shelf with Arthur's accounts of the French thinker Rousseau, and other enlightenment thinkers. The ones he were after too.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!?" he asked, seeing as the library was empty apart from them he didn't even bother to lower his voice, fighting his usual library conduct. Whispering in a library is more of an instinct than a rule, he found. The girl looked flustered, bowed to England, before she muttered an apology and rushed off.

"Well?" Arthur asked, "What are you doing in my library, France?"

France looked completely comfortable with the situation, never losing his composure, leaning nonchalantly against the shelf with his arm right above England's head. If he moved a bit closer their noses would be touching, but England refused to back down.

"Parce que, it is your bibliotheque, mon cherie," he said in a flirty voice. As if England was going to pick up where Susie left off. The pure arrogance of certain nations!

"Were you after a book then, or is it simply more fun to try to seduce my people because French women know by now that they can't trust you?" Arthur asked the frog.

"Ah, non Angleterre, don't hurt my feelings like that, I am trés sensitive you know. I wanted to read some philosophie, then that little kitten was helping me find this shelf, and we mutually decided to act upon our feelings for each other," France defended himself.

England would make sure the other nation hadn't taken advantage of his people – particularly the few who knew who and what they really were - later. "I will believe you for now, but only because we would have heard her scream if you were forcing yourself upon her," England bruskly told the older nation.

"Quoi? Angleterre don't say such 'orrible things! I am the country of l'amour! Only romantic things will do. I know how to treat ladies with respect and how to woo them off their feet!" Francis protested heavily.

Arthur sighed. "I know, I know. Whatever France. But, for future reference, it is rude and disrespectful to snog people in my library, alright? Oh well. Now that you are here, do you want to take some tea with me? I was going to read later, but it is nice to have company over tea," Arthur asked politely before drawing the books he wanted out of their respective places.

The Dewey Decimal System still being his prefered way of categorising books, making them perfectly easy to find.

"That sounds lovely, I will bring some books myself for later," France answered and started finding Arthur's account of Rousseau and Montesquieu.

Then they walked in silence towards another part of the library where there were comfortable chairs, sofas, and coffee tables. A waiter, reminding France of traditional English butlers, took their order, and were back only minutes later.

France noticed the splendour of the china, Britain never spared any expense on his tea.

"Traditional afternoon tea usually has sandwiches and champagne as I am sure you know, but firstly it is no longer really afternoon and I had an early dinner today, so I am not hungry. Secondly, I don't feel like clotting my brain with alcohol before I read, I do apologise," Arthur said as he poured some tea, added a dash of milk, and stirred slowly.

"Of course, that is fine by me. The champagne would be mine anyways," France grinned and mimicked England's actions.

"True my friend," Arthur nodded, "so tell me. Why would a Frenchman such as yourself want to read the British accounts of one of your own thinkers?" he asked, referring to his notes on Rousseau, which were lying on the table.

"I suppose I was curious of what you think. And I can't help wonder why you have brought out Locke and Hobbes, are you questioning the foundation of your government? Or the rights of property? Or are you missing Alfred while debating the State of Nature?" France asked with a glint in his eyes.

Arthur thought for a second. "I suppose I am reminding myself of how we got to where we are today," he pondered for a bit. "You know, they are rather linked with Rousseau. I remember meeting him at the time with his peculiar ideas of the State of nature, social contract and what not. When he suggested people neeeded to be 'forced to be free' he really put a chill down my spine," England recalled.

"Quoi? Non! Rousseau tried to find l'ultimate freedom," France's English slipped a bit with his passion.

"My dear France, you do have to admit that Rousseau can come across as quite totalitarian!" England said, "I can see an argument for republicanism in him certainly, but there is also totalitarian communism a la Soviet Russia!"

"You just don't like him because of his character! His philosophy is great, don't hold a bad meeting against him!" Francis pouted.

He might have been a bit too French, England mused, but chose not to say anything as the conversation was not about their rivalry for once. "When was he born again?" Arthur settled on instead.

"1712, in Genève. He was from the Francophone part of today's Switzerland," France said, sipping his tea.

"Right, true. And he lived in Paris and Venice for a while, am I right? His father was banned from Geneva," Arthur mused. "And he came here too. I recall David Hume took a liking to him at first. Him and his ridiculous dog, Sultan. Then Hume got the short end of the straw and was treated very poorly," England shook his head.

"Well. The one thing Jean-Jacque did not like was dependence, and he felt very dependent on Hume while in Le Royaume-Uni. It made him feel vulnerable. You know, his whole philosophie is written in order to not be dependent on anyone," Francis explained.

"Hm, I suppose that does make sense," England said as he flipped through the book in front of them. "However, the way he tried to solve it appears very Communist to me, in a sense. He thought he could find a common good everyone would, just by default, agree upon, which would govern everyone, right? I believe he called it The General Will".

"In a sense, oui. However, we need to go back to the basics of Rousseau. He thinks that the human being in a state of nature would indeed have the self-preservation instinct, but also capable of feeling pity," France said.

"Right! I remember this. Hobbes had been saying your life would be 'nasty, brutish and short' in a state of nature without an authority, because human beings are inherently egoistic and sort of evil. And Locke believed we were born with an empty slate, and filled it as we pleased," Arthur added.

"Oui, exactly. But Jean-Jacque believed that 'L'homme est né libre et partout il est dans les fers'" France said, "which means.."

"Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. I know. Famous quote and all. But the French literally mean: man was born free, right. As in when we were born we were free, but then we were restrained and corrupted by society?" England asked.

"Oui, c'est vrai. All he wanted to do was liberate us. He thought that we were solitary by nature. A bit like you, mon cher," France gave him a teasing smile.

"Ha ha, splendid isolation and all that. May I remind you of the British empire? Not so antisocial and all that," Arthur said triumphantly.

France snorted. "Ha! You empire was a desperate attempt to make friends. And you sucked at it, like you still do. I am the closest you will ever get to a friend, and we are more like rivals. Just the way you ran your colonies: appointing someone else to govern, didn't settle mostly, or anything, just took their resources and tricked them into using opium. We at least made them French!"

"That is not really a good way of making friends either, Francis," England sighed.

"Right, so, where was I? D'accord. Rousseau wrote Du contrat social, which is about that. State of nature is asocial, but we still have pity and compassion. Ultimately, like Kant, he had faith in human beings. However, in sharp contrast to Kant he doesn't think we have improved with history," France said and took a bite of a fruit-scone with jam and cream.

"Right. Because he believed that the state of nature, in the past, was better, while the society we are creating are alienating us from that. I wonder what he would think of the internet. It is such a wonderful invention, but I am sure he would hate it. He was such a rude, unfriendly guy. I would not like to meet him in 'a state of nature', really," Arthur said and poured more tea.

"Ah, but Angleterre. He also thought our welfare does not come from the destruction and competition with others. He just wanted to be left alone. Unlike your own Thomas Hobbes, I might add!" France defended.

He continued, "so Rousseau thought we were compassionate but not social beings. He rejected the whole notion of original sin in such a statement, making him not too popular with the church".

"I heard he thought he was the only man left in France who believed in God," England added thoughtfully. "Spiritual questions can be so personal and tense sometimes. America has always been very passionate about how to believe in God. We are more: 'tea, scones and God' with our religion. Not so much Jesus-in-your-face and all that. Each to each own, and good luck to us all in the afterlife," he shrugged.

"Ok, so Rousseau tries to recapture innocence, and thinks he has found the solution for moral redemption. That is all fine," Arthur said. "However, what I don't get is what he does with it! He says he wants to avoid dependence, but what he does is create the ultimate system of depending on others!"

"Quoi? Non, mon amie! That is not right. He did no such thing!" France looked utterly shocked.

"How can you say that? This is why I find him totalitarian, France. He creates this communist system where man leaves his own self back home, goes out into society and does politics. But the politics is one where everyone agrees on everything," Arthur said and put down his cup into the saucer, for effect.

"And if one doesn't agree one should be 'forced to be free' that sounds very totalitarian to my British ears!" he exclaimed.

"Non! Society works by the ratified laws created by the people, authentic acts by the general will. The people are the sovereign. This is the precise opposite of totalitarian states!"

France stopped for a second, then continued: "When man moved out of the state of nature and into society he must enter the Social Contract along with the other people. This will make him free as he has the precise same responsibilities as everyone else. And the same amount of power. All participants must be free - there can be no slaves - and there is a sovereign body of people to agree on laws, and a government to implement them".

"Alright, but how can everyone ever completely agree on anything? Is there such a thing as a 'general will'? Or does it mean a sort of democracy? If you disagree you must be 'forced to be free'" Arthur pointed out.

"Well, if you steal you are caught and put in prison, non? This is what 'forced to be free' means. If you cannot behave in society, then the others will have to force you to. It just sounds a bit scary because of the way he put it. However, he was skeptical of democracy like most people before him, because it would be the brutish rule of one majority over a minority. That is not freedom," Francis said.

"So what the hell is this General Will then?" Arthur couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Well. I believe Rousseau thought everyone would just _be_ just when they came together and decided over everyone's future. People are supposed to put aside personal greed back home and would know what was best for the community when out doing politics. Tu sais?"

"Oui, je pense je sais. Mais je ne suis pas sûr que ça marcherait," Arthur said, in French to try to be polite to his friend. They were having most of the conversation in English after all.

"I don't know if it would work either, to be honest. Maybe he was too utopian? A bit like the Communists really. An ideal of equal distribution does not guarantee that some greedy bastard does not come and take power and money from everyone else," France said.

"Then there is the issue of women," Arthur added.

"What about them?" France said. England could see in his face that if this was about romance, he should be treading very carefully. However, it wasn't.

"It is about Mary Wollstonecraft, she was very critical of Rousseau you know," England added. Happy to bring a clever Brit to the discussion, which had centred around an eccentric French-speaker for too long.

"ah oui. Her critique of his Émile, and how women should be educated because they are friends of their husbands, and the educator of the children," Francis said.

"Exactly. She wanted reason to be the basis of society," Arthur started, but was interrupted by the butler taking away the now empty china. "Would you like anything else to drink, sirs?"

France immediately asked for some good, decent, imported (from France, if possible) wine. England just smiled, and agreed. Not long after they had two glasses of excellent wine between them. They had both realised that there would be no reading this evening.

"So, moving on to Mary Wollstonecraft then. Who was she really?" France asked and sipped his wine. Literally his wine, although England had been given or bought this exact bottle of course.

"Well. She was from London, born in 1759 and died in 1797. She was the mother of Mary Shelley, you know, the woman that wrote Frankenstein when she was only 19. Anyway, Wollstonecraft's family migrated a lot. And she had a good friend in Frances Blood, who she opened a school together with in 1784," Arthur began. Just like someone telling a story would, he took a dramatic pause at this moment.

"Frances and her baby dies only a year later, and Wollstonecraft starts writing. She maries William Godwin, who actually published her writing. Through him, though, she met Richard Price and Joseph Priestly who became her little circle of intellectuals, and inspired her to write" he said.

"Must have been hard being a woman trying to find your way in the world at that time," Francis pointed out sadly.

"Well, she wrote the Vindication of the Rights of Men in 1790 where she criticises Edmund Burke , and defends her friend Richard Price. Instinct and sensibility seemed to be more important to him than reason in politics, which she absolutely didn't agree with," Arthur said, taking a big sip of wine.

A lot could be said about France, but they did know how to make excellent alcohol.

"She then goes on to criticise his idea of masculinity and femininity, which is suppressing both genders. Sentiments that Burke accept as natural are for Wollstonecraft artificial," he added.

"Everyone draws assumptions, I suppose. A lot like how Rousseau thought that Hobbes' idea of the state of nature and how evil humans are was purely made-up," France added.

"Exactly," England agreed.

"If I recall correctly, she made her own thoughts on the French Revolution and the progress of rights of women then. It was a bit crazy at the time with all the new constitutions we wrote," France recalled.

"Indeed. And then she wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, where she argues humans are rational creatures, and that liberty and independence rests on rationality. 'Femaleness' is not a morally relevant criterion for discrimination," he grinned. Arthur liked when his people fought for freedom. The abolishment of slavery had inspired him a weekend off to just drink and have a good time.

"Oui, because she says that men wants to make women into alluring mistresses and stereotyping them into one thing," France added, "I still see this today with French boys who wonder why women don't want the same. Well. Because there are thousands of women. Look at me and you, we are two men but we are as different as you get," he laughed.

"Indeed my friend," Arthur lifted his glass. "cheers" and "tchin" was exchanged as they toasted. That was one point they could agree upon at least.

"So, Wollstonecraft's main goal was education. To have women be allowed to develop talent and reason, because reason, virtue and knowledge are all extremely important qualities. Men seemed to her to apply reason to injustice, and I suppose she believed that through educating women those arguments would be challenged by half the population," Arthur continued.

"je pense.. well, there is an argument for social constructivism in her thinking. That the roles of men and women are constructed, and that women are taught to be weak, emotional and light-minded, and are not like that by nature," France added.

"She wanted women to be companions of men, not slaves. The modern institution made the slavery of women possible. Like feminists today point out with institutional oppression. In Mary's time this is mostly monarchy, church and military," Arthur added.

"I am with her all the way. Wouldn't a man be bored if women were not educated and interesting? I like my love interests to challenge me intellectually, tu sais?" France added. This was his field of expertise after all.

"Agreed. Wollstonecraft also argues that falling back on instinct and sensibility is to abandon God's gift. We have the ability to reason for a purpose. God created both genders with a soul, and there is no question about that," Arthur continued.

"How did the quote go again? If... 'If woman be allowed to have an immortal soul, she must have, as the employment of life, an understanding to improve' I believe," England said then sipped his wine.

"That makes sense. Otherwise one denies them the rewards of heaven and true devotion," France added in agreement.

"Then there is the issue of private and public sphere. Because Rousseau thought you left the private behind once you walked out the door, whilst Wollstonecraft thought family is the basis of political life and that it reflects society," England said, triumphant at having gotten to the argument against the Francophone thinker.

"I suppose he wanted his freedom to be back home, where others couldn't reach," Francis said in defence of his philosopher.

"Well, yes, but Mary argues that poor family relations, like those outlined in Émile, are the foundations for hierarchy. Hierarchical institutions produce poor fathers and weak mothers. However, friendship creates a bridge between family and state. Therefore, women living in rational fellowship with men, creating strong friendships, is the best way to form a society", Arthur argued.

"Yes but you forget she also said that woman's place was back home, and that marriage is key," Francis said.

"That is true, but a marriage based on mutual respect, not Rousseau's 'divine rights of husbands'! Ultimately what she is saying is that just because we have practiced something for a long time, like racism and sexism, it doesn't make it legitimate," England pointed out.

"There are too few women in philosophy, n'est pas? They bring perspective and flavour, non? I have Simone De Beauvoir of course, but there are so few of them. I like some feminine touch on things," France said and touched the rose that was placed on the table between them.

"I like your national flower, Angleterre. Although I think it might be too romantic for you," France grinned.

"Oh piss of. Your flower, the Iris, is named after the greek for rainbow. How much more flashy can you get? And the English are brilliant gardeners, and roses are a proud and traditional part of that," Arthur huffed.

"En parlant de tradition, shouldn't we at least let Burke defend himself a little bit? He was born in Dublin was he not in 1729?" the Frenchman asked.

"Indeed he was, but he moved to London and worked there. He denounced the French revolution you know? He didn't like abrupt, untraditional change," England said.

"A bit like your whole country. You are not good with change, England. It is part of what makes you special,but it also makes you very old fashioned," France teased.

Arthur just rolled his eyes, "pot calling kettle black and all that," he said a bit grumpily.

"Oh well. Burke simply believed there was value in what people before him had thought, which isn't half bad of an idea. Every new generation cannot reject everything of the past," he said.

England took another sip of wine - the bottle had been emptied into the two glasses, and another had quickly appeared before them - and continued "he may have denounced natural rights, but only because of practical reasons. One calls for the doctor when one is ill after all."

"Also, although he did not like your revolution he rather fancied the English 'Glorious Revolution', and the American one as well. But he thought we should give traditional institutions the benefit of the doubt. They were created for a reason," Arthur said.

"And from what I read he was very empirical, and wanted to get rid of slavery. Only, he'd prefer it to happen gradually, not just overthrow what had been a long practise," France added.

They both drank their wine in silence. France was surprised at how well England could hold his drink today. It varied, and he knew Arthur was not as rubbish a drinker as he was famous for. It was more, well, the inability to stop that earned him the reputation.

"There seems to be a long-going argument between these people if humans are ultimately good or bad," Arthur pondered, interrupting their moment of silence. France looked at him expectantly to continue.

"Well. If we go back to Hobbes, we have the whole idea of humans in the State of Nature where everything is awful and we all fight for ourselves. His main argument was that we need a strong sovereign to just govern everyone in order for humans not to kill each other," he continued.

"It is sort of how political thinking about living in society, having a ruler, is justified. Most of these people, of course, want a just ruler, but for Hobbes even a rubbish, unjust ruler is better than no ruler," England was starting to rant a little now.

"I just don't know if I can agree with him on that. Humans aren't all bad and egocentric. They are capable of good and, as Rousseau said, pity. You know?"

"Oui. It is a very negative way of seeing the world, I suppose. The sovereign having de facto authority over everyone, and revolting would be stupid as humans would turn on each other without a leader. Sounds a bit like a bad argument for a ruler to stay in power, don't you think?" France asked.

"Well, Machiavelli wrote a whole book about how the prince should behave, you remember? Because people suck and lack virtue the Prince, who is of course virtuous by default, should learn how to not be virtuous when dealing with his people", England began.

"So, he has to know when to not be virtuous, while at the same time he always needs to appear virtuous! Like a fox and a lion, or something, but he should mostly be virtuous anyways, but cunning," Arthur said, waving his now empty (again) glass around.

England's eloquence usually disappeared with the drink, but France who was comfortably tipsy himself didn't really care. He did like the more relaxed Angleterre in between the first drink and when he hit the 'absolutely hammered' mark.

"I suppose the circumstances of Florence have to be credited a bit for why he wrote what he wrote. He was trying to appease the Medici family, who had imprisoned him, you know. Besides, he had worked in politics as a diplomat a lot and got a very negative view of the world. Very much a realpolitik thinker! And where does your right to rule come from!?" France finished just as the butler appeared again.

Wine was smoothly replaced by the very best of scotch whisky.

"Well. John Locke is the founder of the modern world, in a sense. Very proud of the guy we are. He believes we are all born with a tabula rasa - a clean slate - and that we are not ultimately evil in the state of nature," England said and appreciated the whisky. It was one of his passions.

"His Two Treatises of Government start off with a criticism of Sir Robert Filmer who believes that your right to rule comes from the legacy of Adam. Locke rejects this of course, using a theological argument that God created humans equal and as such there is no _one_ who can rule over another," England said.

"That sounded very socialist to me. Are you sure he is one of yours?" France laughed.

"Yes of course I am. And no, he is more like the ultimate liberal capitalist! Listen, listen, he invented the idea of property through labour! By applying your own labour to something, you own it. Say you work on a field and harvest the crops etc. that makes you the legitimate owner of that," he said.

"Ah, I see. I also remember there was religious tolerance with John Locke. Your reading of the Bible was as valid as anyone elses reading of it. And you do enter a social contract in his thinking as well right?" France suddenly recalling bits of Locke that he knew.

"Indeed. You make a social contract, through tacit consent, which is a very argued point with him, and live in society. One would have laws and stuff created by humans together, and a sort of notion of separation of power," Arthur contined.

He refilled his whisky as he remembered, "There is actually an argument pro stealing, which is a bit like what Victor Hugo explores in Les Miserables, you know with the whole stealing a piece of bread to survive thing. Because God created humans it is our duty to stay alive, even if that means we have to steal. I found that a pretty clever argument, myself, " England grinned.

"Well, if anyone knows anything about separation of powers it is Montesquieu! Finally, we are back on French grounds!" Francis said triumphantly.

"Montesquieu wrote De l'esprit des lois where he talks about how different cultures are different and have different laws attached to them," he said.

Arthur snorted, and giggled slightly into his whisky, "He argued that it was more natural to have slaves in a warmer climate because it sucks to work in it. You could argue that Britain would be full of slaves because it sucks to be out in the rain and cold. He wasn't exactly a genius was he?"

"Well, he also argued to keep powers in check and try every means possible to avoid despotism. Actually, the joke is on you because he looked to the English monarchy and government for inspiration," Francis snapped back.

"That is true. He liked the way it seemed like our powers were divided between different groups in society. Our rich people would keep the royals in check, and all would ultimately have to keep the workers relatively happy. A sort of balance right?" England said.

"Indeed. He liked your constitutional monarchy a lot, wouldn't stop talking about it, actually! Quite annoying in the long run. How England have laws to keep the sovereign from not doing what he or she wants, and all. He liked the idea of republics, but didn't think larger ones than the Greek city-states would work," France said and downed the rest of his whisky.

It was getting quite late already. Slightly past midnight. Could they really have spoken for that long? They had even been perfectly civil, and dared he say it?, friendly the whole way.

"I guess America proved him wrong on that one, though. They are a bloody large republic, after all!" England laughed.

"Well yes, but the Federalists wanted to avoid factions in society, and keep the country secular to maintain religious freedom. To me it looks like those two points failed miserably!" France said promptly, then yawned dramatically.

France closed his eyes for just one moment. He was feeling rather tired.

"I sort of like Kant. With the whole: treat people as ends not means and all that..." England slurred, his brain not capable of following a line of reason anymore. France was already lightly snoring next to him, and he closed his eyes just for a moment and was completely out of it too.

They passed out on a sofa each, in a nice alcohol-induced sleep, both forgetting they were in a library together with their best frenemy. Just enjoying an evening of drinking, friends, and philosophy.

**I hoped you enjoyed it, or that it helped you. I had some fun writing this instead of just plain reading for my exams at least!**

_Exam update: I think I passed and this - particularly the Rousseau bit - actually helped xD _


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